


Storms

by blakefancier



Category: Drake's Venture (1980)
Genre: M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-26
Updated: 2011-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They keep meeting. Over and over and over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storms

Thomas remembers the rain; it is the cause of all his troubles.

*****

He stood under the tree, water pouring through the branches, drenching him. He stared out into the gray of the afternoon, shivering and uncaring. How long he had been out there, he did not know, long enough for Francis to worry and come for him.

"It was a massacre," he said, when Francis wrapped a cloak around him.

"Aye, that it was. But there's no changing the past, Thomas. Now come out of the rain." Francis was gentle as he led him back to the inn, to their room.

Gentle. Francis could be so gentle, when it suited him.

He stripped the wet clothes from Thomas's body, tucked him in, and kissed him.

What Thomas remember most was that he tasted like rain.

*****

Water dripped from the ceiling and fell into a slowly filling pot.

 _Tink, tink, tink._

Tom closed his eyes and waited, smiling when the door opened and the familiar creak of the floorboards announced Frank. He tilted his head back and warm lips touched his, callused fingers ran through his hair.

He gasped as Frank grabbed him, shoved him against the table.

Moaned. Cried. Scrabbled for purchase. Came.

 _Plop, plop, plop._

When he woke the next morning, he cleaned up the water from around the now overflowing pot.

*****

"What's it called?" Len asked, tilting his head this way and that.

Tommy put on his glasses and read the plaque. "Rain."

Len snorted. "It doesn't look like rain."

He had to agree, there was nothing rain-like about it. "Well, it's blue."

"Yes," replied a deep, sarcastic voice, "that's exactly why I called it that."

Tommy spun around, his apology dying on his lips as he met dark, stormy eyes. He was going to drown, and he didn't care.

*****

The sky was an electric blue and the clouds practically glowed. Tomai stood out in the field behind the base, the alien wheat brushing against him, seeking out the stickiness on his hands. There was a rumble in the distance, and he waited for the answering cry from back at the base.

The planet understood, the crew would not.

When the sky opened up, pouring its tears, he gasped and held out his hands, blood dripping down his arms and washing away in the torrent.

In the end, Fran knew, understood the way he understood all those millennia ago.

Sometimes the earth desired more than rain to slake its thirst.


End file.
